The Fleet of Retribution
by VegasSpartan
Summary: The Carrier Shadow of Intent leads the Separatist forces on a mission of eradicating the final Brute Loyalists, and a secret unit of ODSTs is with them. Rated for Violence and Language. WIP so please R and R!
1. Prologue

**July 14 2553 / 1329 Hours (Local)**

**Separatist Assault Carrier **_**Shadow of Intent**_**, Fleet of Retribution Flagship**

**Crew Quarters, 223rd ODST Regiment**

Sergeant Max "Vegas" Saiger lay in his bunk, contemplating the past few months' events. For two months the War had been officially over, and that was all that the civvies back on Earth needed to know. It was a nice reality for the folks back home, finally being able to let down their guard a bit, and try to pick up the pieces left over from a war that lasted over twenty-five years. Vegas had been there for the final five, though these past six months were the most interesting of it all.

So, while the guys back home got to relax a bit and start rebuilding, Saiger and his comrades knew the truth: the War wasn't quite over. Not yet.

While the Battle of Installation 00 had managed to kill the Prophet of Truth and destroy a very large portion of the Loyalist forces, there were still hundreds of Covenant ships out there, and millions more Brute forces to remove.

And that's where he came in.

While publicly, the Fleet of Retribution was an entirely Covenant Separatist venture, secretly a regiment of ODSTs had been added to the Fleet's combat force as a token of goodwill by the UNSC. For two months the 223rd had followed the Sangheili warriors into skirmish after skirmish against the Jiralhanae, and they'd been very successful.

Hell, he'd even made friends with some of his new allies.

Saiger smiled at the thought. Friends. He'd just had lunch with someone who he would have shot outright just months ago. Amazing how fate can be.

With that, he decided it was time to practice again, although he sure was getting his fair share lately.

The Sergeant swung his legs out and sat up, lacing up his boots and blousing out the legs of his gray BDUs. He reached under his bunk and slid out the larger of his two footlockers, flicking the case open.

He always smiled at the sight of his most trusted companion.

The matte-black surface of his BR55HB DMR stared back at him.

It was a specially modified version of the standard BR55HB SR, made for him, and him alone. Well, at least that's the way he felt about it. He'd done all the modifications himself.

A longer, heavier barrel, a selector switch that only had SAFE and SEMI, a modified slide that ejects casings the proper direction for a left-handed shooter, and a custom-built 2x/6x variable zoom smart-linked scope. His job was to be one of the team's Designated Marksmen. He loved his job.

While all Marines are trained to be good shots, and ODSTs even more so, DMs were just short of a true Sniper in their skills (and talent) with a rifle. They were trained to cover the "No man's land" – the area between 500 and 800 meters; too far for an average rifleman and too close for quick comfortable targeting by a true sniper – and to support their squad with accurate fire in close combat. This was a task that Sergeant Max Saiger excelled in.

Vegas removed the rifle from its case and pulled back the slide, checking that the weapon was empty out of pure habit – he knew full well that it was – and slung it across his back, standing and walking towards the blue and purple doorway, which promptly hissed and opened out into the corridor. The Sergeant proceeded to jog the fifty yards to the nearest elevator and rode it down into the hangar bay of the massive _Shadow of Intent_. He really liked this ship, and he knew that despite its mission, it was the safest combat vessel he'd ever been aboard.

The doors hissed open and as he stepped off he nearly ran into an Elite. He apologized profusely and stepped aside before recognizing the eight-foot-tall warrior.

"Ahhh shit! I didn't notice it was you, N'tho."

The Sangheili equivalent of a smile played across his mandibles, and the young soldier laughed at seeing his friend stumble into him.

"It is nothing, Saiger! I must say I'm glad to see you, even if you had nearly bowled me over."

Max smiled back at his friend, constantly amazed how quickly the Sangheili had picked up Human slang, as well as the absurdity of a 5'9" man "bowling over" an 8' alien.

"I was just heading over to the range for some trigger time. Care to join me?"

N'tho 'Sraom glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the practice range and clicked his mandibles, the Elite "shrug." He turned back and nodded.

"Why not? I've completed my duties for the day, and I could use the practice."

Saiger caught the gleam in the alien's eye, a sparkle that clearly said, "…and I'm willing to bet I'll kick your ass at it, too."

With a friendly slap on the back of his comrade, the Sergeant started walking to the range. _He should really know better by now_, he smiled to himself…

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**Author's note:**

**Thanks for reading, I will be updating soon!**


	2. Situation Normal

**July 14 2553 / 1402 Hours (Local)**

**SAC **_**Shadow of Intent**_

**Main Hangar Bay**

Saiger steadied himself, doing the mental calculations required to hit his target. Crosswind… none. It's a hangar bay on a starship, after all. Hmm… distance…? Six hundred and fifty-ish meters. That's about right. Okay… control your breathing… control your heart rate…

The Sergeant held his breath, and counted off heartbeats as the trigger started back towards him… Thump, pause, thump, pause, thump, _CRACK!_

The nine-point-five-millimeter round flew straight and true down the range, striking the metal target with an audible _ping_ that was amplified by the nearest wall.

Saiger exhaled as he heard the brass casing hit whatever the floor was made of, and he smiled to himself. N'tho was a good shot with his Carbine, but Max was infinitely better at these ranges, something the Elite was always envious of.

A low growl escaped 'Sraom's throat as he turned to face the Sergeant.

"Bested again!" he chuckled, "I must say it is an honor to fight alongside such a marksman, and a relief not to have to face you!"

Saiger grinned wide and extended his hand to the Sangheili, which was returned and shook.

"I'm tellin' ya, you really should listen to my advice. Can't hurt to be a better shot."

'Sraom nodded thoughtfully but patted his thigh, where the hilt of his energy blade was attached.

"I always was much better with this than any rifle."

There was that same gleam in his eye, the "I can kick your ass at this one, for sure," sort of look.

Max shook his head and laughed, "That, my friend, I have seen." He liked knives, but he was no match for N'tho's swordsmanship, and he knew very well that any sparring with the Elite would end up with a very painful trip to the floor on his end. Sangheili took great pride in their close combat skills, and for good reason.

"For my sake, I hope you don't plan on betting him with that weapon."

The pair turned towards the source of the voice, Petty Officer Second Class Nicholas Webb, one of the two Corpsmen along for the ride with the ODSTs.

"Ahh, hell, of course not, Doc. I'm not that stupid."

"Oh I beg to differ." The two shared a laugh, the joke lost on N'tho.

"So, when you're done with your boyfriend, we've got a briefing to get to."

At that, Max punched Webb in the shoulder before turning to give N'tho a thoughtful nod as he began his walk to the elevator.

_They always seem so relaxed_, thought the Elite. _And yet… so professional…_

Humans had always fascinated 'Sraom, something that had made him respect their tenacity and bravery. He was truly honored to fight alongside some of their best warriors, the "Spartan-117" among them. He sighed at the thought of the "Demon" being killed because of a Slipspace collapse…

Stepping off the elevator, Saiger and Webb walked a few meters until they reached the carrier's main conference room. Inside was the majority of their unit, along with Rtas 'Vadum, Thel 'Vadam, Usze 'Taham, and two black-armored Elites, whom Saiger had seen before but never truly met.

Rtas spoke first.

"We have detected a distress beacon from a Sangheili frigate in the next star system. As such, we have altered the fleet's course to assist."

Captain Donald "Radar" Divers nodded thoughtfully, pondering their options.

"Sounds good to me, Ship Master. My Marines will back you up, you know that."

'Vadum nodded. "Something that I am very grateful for."

With that, the Elites began to file out of the room, though no Marine followed. Divers eyed over the men and women in the room, and sighed to himself when his mental count came up fourteen short of their original number.

"Okay, boys and girls. You all know the drill. This is probably going to be a simple rescue mission but that doesn't mean you let your guard down. Make sure all your gear is ready to go before we drop out of Slipspace. I don't want our pants down on this one, Oorah?"

A chorus of OORAH erupted in the room.

"Good! Dismissed, Marines!"

Saiger jogged at a brisk pace back to his quarters, donning his black-armored body suit, sans the helmet. That he placed on his bunk as he sat down on it. _Be ready, you never know_… One thing he knew through and through about wartime was that nothing ever went right. The military had a saying for it: SNAFU. Situation Normal: All Fucked Up. He smiled to himself, thinking it interesting that things went wrong so often that it was considered normal.

"I know that look. Whatcha thinkin' about, Max?"

Vegas was rather lost in his thoughts so he couldn't help but flinch at the voice, though he knew it full well as he turned to face Staff Sergeant Melanie Hayes. He smiled at her.

"Oh, the usual bullshit. You know how war is."

And she did. She was a seven-year veteran, and had been at every major battle for those final seven years, except Installation 04.

She sat next to him. "Yeah, yeah I do. But, eh you get-"

Her words were cut off as the pair was flung to the floor, a massive explosion rocking the ship. An Elite came on over the PA system, a voice he recognized as Masha' Sakgan, the _Shadow of Intent_'s Tactical Officer.

"The Brute traitors have ambushed us! Combat stations!"

Max groaned and rolled onto his back, he'd landed face first on the deck, which hurt a whole helluva lot. He sat up and turned to Melanie, who was staggering to her feet, a little dazed.

"C'mon, we gotta get moving. Ten bucks says they've got boarding parties on the way."

Vegas nodded and donned his helmet, grabbing his rifle and slinging it across his back, while being sure to grab an SMG on his way into the corridor. _God damnit, I'm a marksman! I need distance!_ He smiled to himself. _SNAFU._

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**Author's note:**

**Thanks for reading! Please Rate and Review! I'd really like to hear your comments/suggestions :D**


	3. Bullshit Days

**July 14 2553 / 1459 Hours (Local)**

**SAC **_**Shadow of Intent**_

**ODST Quarters Deck**

The pair of ODSTs were sprinting down the corridor, so naturally, when another plasma torpedo impacted the _Intent_'s shields, they were again thrown to the deck.

"Fuck!" Saiger punched the deck in frustration. "I hate starships so much sometimes, ya know?"

Hayes only laughed at him as they regained their footing. Again, they started moving, and again an impact shook the ship, though this time they stayed on their feet.

"That didn't feel like a torpedo…" Their eyes met, and so did their thoughts. They polarized their visors and rolled into opposite corners, hearing the cutting torch activate on the nearest airlock door.

Saiger activated his radio, "Boarders, deck thirty-two!"

The doorway exploded as he finished the statement, and on instinct the two ODSTs leaned their SMGs around the corner and started spraying. The M7 was hard to control one-handed, but accuracy was hardly an issue when they were shooting down a corridor that was only five meters long. He could hear the cries of Grunts as they fell, and the roar of the Brutes behind them.

Vegas pressed his back against the wall and discarded the empty magazine as bolts of plasma and spikes flew past him, impacting the bulkhead across from the Marine. He glanced over at Melanie, and nodded. She returned the nod and they reached for their grenades.

They nodded three more times in a countdown, and as it finished they each tossed a pair of M9 HE-DPs down the hallway. The alarmed bark of a Brute echoed down the hall just before four dull thumps followed it.

The Marines popped around their corners, their weapons up and ready. They shuffled down the hallway slowly, breathing calm and steady, their senses extremely alert. They were professionals, after all.

The corridor was covered in light blue and dark purple gore, the mangled bodies thrown about in impossible positions. One brute was still alive, trying to crawl away, one leg completely gone, the other twisted at a horrid angle.

Saiger stepped over the helpless alien, looking down at it, meeting its gaze. He depolarized his visor so that the Brute could see his face.

"The… Prophets… were… were right… Your heresy… will become… clear…"

Saiger leaned in very close.

"Thanks for the warning. See you in hell." At that, he fired a quick burst into the alien's head.

Melanie placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You okay?" Saiger only nodded and began walking back the way they came.

"C'mon, people need our help."

She glanced back at the destroyed head of the Brute, furrowing her brow in concern before following.

Their radios crackled to life, "Dropships moving into the main hangar bay! All available forces rally there!"

The two sprinted to the nearest elevator, impatient to get to the main battle and help out.

N'tho and Usze were already there, crouching behind a few crates, a burning Phantom not far from them.

"You beasts have no honor!" Usze called out, firing a few rounds from his Carbine, dropping a Brute and sending two more scrambling for cover.

"Come, cowards! I shall show you how a true warrior fights!" At that, four low-ranking Brutes roared and clambered over their cover, charging headlong towards the pair of Elites, Plasma Rifles and Spikers firing wildly. The Elites crouched lower and their eyes met. They nodded and threw their Carbines away, each drawing an energy blade. Letting out their own battle cry, the pair leapt over the crates and cut into the foolish Brutes.

The lead Brute brought his Spiker in an overhead blow, trying to cut down into Usze's head. The Elite sidestepped the sloppy attack, grabbing the back of the Brute's head and pulling him onto his sword, the twin blades running clean through his opponent's chest. 'Taham kicked the beast away, slashing to his right with a wide arc that cut the next Brute neatly in half at the waist.

N'tho jumped high and brought his blade down through the third Brute's head and into his torso. He rolled as the body hit the deck and came up in a flat run straight at the last Brute, who fired at him. Plasma whined through the air, flaring 'Sraom's shields but not stopping him as the Elite first cut off the Brute's weapon arm, and then slashed up the torso, cutting it cleanly with one stroke.

The pair roared a blood cry, turning to face the other Brutes and Grunts in the hanger. A few were stunned by the display, but most were enraged and fired angrily at the pair, who promptly dove behind cover.

Sangheili were honor-driven, but they were not stupid, and they were not suicidal, especially not these two veterans. They were calculating their options as the elevator doors opened and the two ODSTs rolled out into the firefight.

Hayes took up a position behind the destroyed Phantom and sprayed her SMG at the Brutes, enraging them further but doing little harm.

Saiger fired as he ran towards the Elites, diving behind cover with them.

"Miss me?"

N'tho smiled, "Not particularly, though the company is welcome."

Saiger chuckled and readied his rifle. _Here's where the fun begins_.

He propped his arm up on the crate and steadied his breathing, though his heart was going a couple-hundred miles an hour. _Oh well_, he thought. At this range he didn't need the extra accuracy that comes from firing between heartbeats.

Vegas steadied himself, ignoring the plasma and spikes all around him. The trigger came towards him, and the first round was unleashed onto his enemies.

The first to fall was a Grunt with a Fuel Rod Gun, falling over backwards from the momentum of a single headshot.

Saiger peppered the armor of a Brute until it failed, finishing it with a clean headshot.

This pattern continued for thirty-six shots, until he had to swap magazines.

By that point Hayes had joined the trio, continuing to suppress the enemy.

Vegas slid the new mag home, turning towards N'tho as he charged the bolt.

"Hayes and I will cover, you two try to flank around to their right and work some more of that sword magic, ok?"

Although technically the Elites outranked the Sergeant, they trusted his judgement, and knew a good plan when they heard it. They nodded and sprinted to the next piece of cover as Saiger joined Hayes in suppressing fire. More Grunts and a few Brutes fell, but most were safely behind their cover. _Well, safe from me… though not my buddies,_ Saiger thought. He smiled as he saw the two Elites dive into the enemy, the combination of energy sword and hot lead quickly decimating the enemy force. The Elites roared and the Marines cheered, the skirmish won.

That was the pattern that had marked the last two months. The Brutes would make some futile push, and the Elites and Humans would beat them down. It seemed too easy to Saiger, and that troubled him.

Though he couldn't help but smile as Hayes placed her arm around him.

"Another bullshit day, eh Max?"

"You know it, Mel."

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**Author's note:**

**That ending seemed a little anti-climatic, I know... I apologize for that. My descriptive powers left me for a while there but I liked the rest of the chapter so much I decided to post it anyway. I promise Chapter 4 will be better!**

**Thanks for reading! All suggestions are welcome! Please Rate and Review!**


	4. Author's Apology

**Author's apologies…**

For now, I'm terminating this story (Fleet of Retribution). My writers block has struck me hardcore, and I can't get this other storyline out of my head. I think I'm going to scrap this and start over. It'll still be about ODSTs, and it will be many of the same characters, just presume that in my little fan universe this story never happened. Not yet at least.

I must apologize to those of you that were watching this story. Please bare with me. I would feel honored if you stuck around for my new story.

Thank you and I'm sorry,

-VegasSpartan


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